“No.”

 

“Come on.”

 

“Xiumin would never allow it,” Yunho sank into the swivel chair in his office and sighed, “he's already on my for letting a victim's brother burst into our department and beating up Nick-what's-his-face.”

 

“Nichkhun.”

 

“Gesundheit.”

 

“I need it, Yunho. I need something to haul a celebrity out of a sea of contracts and bull. I've already been to the studios and guess what? She has fricking schedules 24/7. And when I try to catch her, she tells me to call her lawyer.”

 

“How are you so sure that she's Jenny Park?”

 

“My mum used to work in Hongchen before she became a housewife, and this girl with weird eyes used to come to her shop often. She always said 'hi' to me. I remember those eyes, and I remembered her Korean name being one of the seasons. My mum used to call her Bommie.”

 

“There are a thousand girls with loopy eyes, Junmyeon. This doesn't make her the missing girl.”

 

“Which is what I'm trying to find out, Yunho.”

 

“Why the heck did you talk to the manager? Go to her agency, talk to the CEO, haul her up to his office. Oh, and if they don't offer you cookies, don't take it personally. 4 out of 20 of their celebrities have been hauled in for drunk driving. That brick-head Henry himself hauled in two.”

 

“I'm a junior officer, I have none of that right.”

 

Yunho let out an incredibly long groan and snatched up his keys grumpily.

 

“Fine, I'll go see Bommie.”

 

*

 

The second Park Bom, international artiste, stepped out of the filming studio of KBS, she was greeted by two figures of significant height difference. In her heels, she was about Suho's height, but Yunho towered over her.

 

“Hello, Miss Park. I was wondering if we could ask you a couple of questions.”

 

Her eyes darted towards her manager, who was quivering behind Suho, cradling the bright-red hand Yunho had shook earlier.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Are you familiar with the name Jenny Park?”

 

Her face blanched.

 

“No.”

 

“Perhaps this might refresh your memory,” Junmyeon pulled out a picture from between the files in his hand and put it under her nose. She looked away.

 

“See, we're very anxious to find her, seeming that she's a missing, famous violinist and all, so we're hoping to get DNA samples of every probable person we can think of,” Yunho was so smooth with his bull Junmyeon almost grinned, “and I was wondering if you could just,” Yunho picked a random cup on the water cooler, “you know, spit into it or something.”

 

Park Bom's eyes were wild, her fingers were trembling.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Falsifying documents is a federal crime, Miss Park,” Yunho's tone went professional. There was something in his eyes, a kind of seriousness, a kind of pity.

 

“I have a makeup room we can talk in, please,” she gestured towards her manager, “we'll be fine alone. Give me 10 minutes.”

 

“But you have a CF in...”

 

“Can it,” Yunho turned to glare at him and he recoiled, “if your CEO has a problem with his money-makers helping an investigation, tell him to call me. I'm available from 9 to 5 everyday unless its a bank holiday. Oh, and tell him that he can take his opinion on the police department and shove it waaaay up his .”

 

Bom led Yunho and Junmyeon to a room at the end of the hallway. There was no one in it, and the vanity tables were littered with makeup palettes and a mad amount of brushes.

 

The second the officers sat down Bom crashed down to her knees and gripped Yunho's hands in hers.

 

“Please don't tell anyone,” her voice came out raspy and sharp, the kind you wouldn't want to hear alone in the dark.

 

“Miss, calm down.”

 

“There's a reason for all this, there's a reason I underwent plastic surgery. I did it three times, I let them cut me up again and again because I wanted to be sure that he would never find me.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Jack.”

 

There was something in her voice, the way she breathed it out. Like an exhausted sigh, as though she never expected herself to say that name again.

 

“Jack who? Is it a foreigner?”

 

“I don't know, he spoke Korean to me. He had a strange accent, like a Joseon kind.”

 

“So he was definitely Korean.”

 

“That's the thing, I couldn't tell. I couldn't see his face, he always had on this mask that was cut perfectly to fit his face. When he spoke, the mask moved with his lips. When he smiled, I could always tell.” Her voice was vacant now, her eyes faraway. The memory was sinking in, Junmyeon could see it.

 

“Why don't we start by you telling us what happened that night you disappeared?”

 

“It was just another night after the concert. My boyfriend and I were leaving the venue,” her lips trembled, “he was my manager back then but we never let anyone know so there were horrible rumours of him molesting me. He was driving me back to my flat and we went upstairs. We were halfway up the stairs when we heard a tremendous explosion. My boyfriend told me to stay put and he ran downstairs to check.”

 

She wiped sweaty palms on her leather pants uselessly, still trembling.

 

“Someone put a tissue over my mouth, and it stank of something. I was out and woke up in a cylindrical... thing. I was drenched in grimy oil.”

 

Junmyeon exchanged looks with Yunho. The description matched Chaelin's experience.

 

“I don't know what was going on, but I think I was steamed. Every day, for an excrutiating amount of time, the air would become unbearably warm and something would pour oil and me. It drove me crazy, I never knew if I would be killed by the fumes or from burning because I could hear fire. Fire everywhere. Then, one day, the air smelt a little funny and I out. I woke up in this... disturbing thing.”

 

“Thing? Can you describe it please?”

 

“I-I-It felt like a dollhouse.”

 

Junmyeon stared at her in silence.

 

“Dollhouse.”

 

“You know how when you leave a dollhouse in the middle of the room, you can see it at any angle? It was the same. It was made purely of glass and there were cameras everywhere, and that's when Jack started to appear. He made me sit rod-straight and follow this stupid schedule where I was supposed to behave like a doll. He starved me, he made me smile every day when inside I felt like dying.”

 

“Why didn't you fight back?”

 

“I struck him once, and he nearly killed me. He locked me in an oven and raised the temperature every hour. I still have the burn marks,” she raised her shirt and clearly, on her flat stomach, were scars the shape of grill bars, “he had many ways to hurt me. Once, he cut my arm and made me drink the blood because I drew out the lines.”

 

“What?”

 

“He liked it when I drew. He made me draw all the time, and he hit me because I was bad at it.”

 

This is unbelievable, this girl is insane. Junmyeon shook his head, cradling the impending migraine.

 

 

“One day I couldn't take it anymore. I just... I just managed to escape. It was so surreal, it was so unreal.”

 

“How?” Yunho asked.

 

“I don't know. I just... I just wanted to be eaten by alligators. It was better than being mentally tortured every day.”

 

Alligators? What? She's insane. She's off her rocker.

 

“I just walked off the podium, and instead of falling into the mouths of the alligators, I stepped on land. There was an invicible path after all. I took it and when he came for me, I stabbed him into the chest with a butter knife and ran.”

 

Invincible path?

 

“This is... this is bull, what are you... what are you...” Yunho suddenly gripped Junmyeon's arm and gestured towards Bom's face. She was no longer looking at them. She was staring deep into the mirror opposite her.

 

“What's...” Junmyeon tried to ask but Yunho stopped him, eyes cautious.

 

“Jenny?”

 

It was as though Park Bom was gone. She was looking into the mirror as though she didn't recognise herself.

 

Then, she smiled.

 

“Look, Jack,” she whispered, “I look like a proper doll now.”

 

Then she fell sideways, almost hitting the floor before Yunho leapt forwards and grabbed her by the back and waist.

 

“Call an ambulance!” Yunho shouted as Bom's lips began to froth, “hurry it up!”

 

Jenny had returned to the dollhouse.

 

*

 

“Jinki's not going to graduate medical school like this,” Yesung paced up and down the room, shaking his head as he scratched the insides of his jeans pockets.

 

“Who gives a about medical school? Why did he lose it like this?” Chaelin and Jieun were sat on the other side of the room, watching Yesung pace in the psychiatric unit waiting room.

 

“He's almost 30, why isn't he over this premonition bull he's been harping on and on since he was eight? That was supposed to be a childhood trauma thing. He went to a shrink, he took meds, he did therapy, why the hell is he still having dreams that induce this bull panic attacks?”

 

“Chaelin, did you see that? It took 5 cops to restrain him, and one of them had to break his nose. Give me 10 seconds to think and shut your damn trap.”

 

Chaelin gasped and Jieun wrapped her arm around her.

 

“Give us a sec.”

 

The second Chaelin left the area, Jieun wrapped her head with clawed hands.

 

“Okay, no one has to know this happened,” Yesung finally lifted his head. Jieun stared at him in incredulity but he took no notice. “No one has to know that he had a panic attack, you're going to keep him under medical surveillance, and I'm not going to report this. That way when this whole bull blows over, he can keep studying.”

 

“Yesung, I don't think that's important right now...”

 

“Yes it is, Jieun. Yes it gawddamn is, this has been his dream since high school and I'm no having another Daehyun – a chunk of his life wasted away in a psychiatric hospital because he was declared insane under 'unexplained circumstances'. There are no unexplained circumstances, they are either angry people driven to aggression due to desperation or there are people who are genetically, medically stressed. Nothing is unexplained. Nothing. Jonghyun was estranged, tortured and then lobotomised. Junho was a piece of who liked to see people die and Daehyun was telling the truth no one wanted to hear.”

 

He was rambling now, his pacing quickening. Jieun's brow started to furrow more and more, then she stood up.

 

“Then let's find out for sure.”

 

 

*

 

When Junmyeon unlocked the door to the office, the first thing he noticed was that there was a pale, blue face hovering at the coffee area, eyes downcast and intent. His heart skipped a beat, his mouth fell open, and his grip on his thermos full of hot coffee tightened so hard that he felt his muscles go numb. He must have stood there for five seconds, but it felt like an hour, staring at the glowing blue face with trepidation when the eyes lifted up to stare, dead-pan at him.

 

“Good morning, Junmyeon.”

 

He snapped.

 

“Aaaaaaarrrgggghhhh!,” he let out an estranged scream and dropped his thermos. The lights abruptly snapped on. He took one look and released a strained sigh of relief, gripping his chest as he caught his breath. Kyungsoo grunted in greeting, and averted his eyes back to his laptop screen, the sound of keys tapping away.

 

“You,” Junmyeon pointed, still heaving as he picked up his thermos, “need sun.”

 

“And you need balls,” Kyungsoo crunched loudly on cereal at his table, “relax, if there's anyplace haunted, it's the men's room.”

 

“Don't do that,” Junmyeon held up a finger, “I have low tolerance towards paranormal menace.”

 

Kyungsoo snorted.

 

“Some cop.”

 

“Hey, I need to pick up a suspect from Yeouido, is Yunho in yet?”

 

“Nah, he's never in before 10,” Kyungsoo a stray crumb off his lower lip, “spend the first year pretending to work your off and eventually no one gives a flying what time you come in.”

 

“Okay, well I'm just going to borrow one of his patrol cars, mine got busted by a drunk- lorry driver last night,” Junmyeon slammed down a pair of cuffs reeking of metal and sweat, “took me and Junsu both to kick his into retainment.”

 

“Speaking of cuffs, what happened to Onew? Dude who burst in here with a -fit a couple of days ago? I've known him half my life, he's never snapped like that before.”

 

“Wait, you know him?”

 

“Yeah, he was my biology tutor in middle school. Dude had the brains the size of planets, smart and funny. His sister was in my senior in the Physics club but...”

 

“Who gives a about the clubs? What were they like? Were they weird, quiet... no friends, back-of-the-class types?”

 

“Well, they're not extroverts, but they had friends. Jinki was really nice, teachers and students loved him.”

 

“Kyungsoo, I swear to God I'm gonna...”

 

“Fine. Fine. He was normal as far as I could see.”

 

“That doesn't make sense,” Junmyeon sank into a swivel chair, “Dr Park told me that he had an accident when he was a kid. Something that made him imagine himself to be psychic or something.”

 

“Now that you mention it, he used to have bad dreams a lot,” Kyungsoo furrowed his brow, “wait, wait. There was definitely something weird.”

 

“What?”

 

“Everytime he had a bad dream, Chaelin wouldn't come to clubs.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“I went to his place for my tutor lessons, and Chaelin would complain to me. She used to hate him for it. Those fights sometimes got massive. She would be screaming that he wasn't psychic and more like insane and he would lock her up in her room.”

 

“He always said he was trying to protect her.”

 

The door creaked open and Junmyeon jumped. Yunho walked in, a kind of breakfast material crammed between his maws. He stopped short at Junmyeon and Kyungsoo staring at him, blinked and walked into his office.

 

Kyungsoo snorted.

 

“Every morning he has an avocado bagel. Rich people.”

 

“Hey, Bom was discharged yesterday from the ER. There's nothing terminally wrong with her, so I'm going to reccommend a shrink for her so that we can get some out about her case.”

 

“Great.”

 

“What do you mean 'great'? This girl's mad as a bat but half of what she said eerily coincides with... what?” he complained when Yunho looked at him judgingly.

 

“Junmyeon, the kid's just went down sweet memory lane and landed in a freaking ER. Give her a day at least before you bring her in. She's obviously traumatised and Junmyeon,” he enunciated as Junmyeon's eyes began to glaze, “I know you love your job and you wanna solve . But please, the kid needs rest.”

 

“Sure, she needs rest. That's why I got word from her manager that she's recording for a new solo today.”

 

“Junmyeon. That company is sued every Tuesday for overworking their celebrities.”

 

“Well then consider this me cutting her a break,” Junmyeon grabbed his coat and left the office, leaving behind Yunho's exasperated groans.

 

“Short people.”

 

*

 

Junmyeon checked the tiny slip of paper lying in his palm for the second time, a tiny dot in the shadow of the giant infrastructure. The monster building, only one of the many skyscrapers that scratched the skies of Seoul City loomed over him, standing at least a seventy floors high, with a lobby fully exposed by glass walls and doors taking up the first two. The air was filled with the clacking of shoes against pavement, and when the door buzzed open at the swipe of ID cards at the entrance, they turned to heels clinking on polished marble. He heaved a deep breath, exhaled as slowly as he could and made his way to the buzzer, pressing it with a pale finger. The security guard took one curious look at him, and buzzed him through.

 

“Excuse me, is this,” he peered at the slip and read the address.

 

“Yes, it is,” the man nodded politely.

 

“Urm, I'm looking for YGEnt, the entertainment company that's supposed to be in his building?”

 

“Staff or visitor?”

 

“I'm a cop, I need to speak with Miss Park Bom regarding a murder investigation.”

 

“May I have identification, please?”

 

He flipped open his wallet and allowed the man to squint at his badge.

 

“I'll let her manager know.”

 

“Let them both come down, I'm under legal obligation to talk to them both.”

 

“I don't know if they will...”

 

“Look buddy, either you let me up right now, or you watch me haul them both into a police van none-too gently as this place crawls with cops. Dare me to, please. I love it when my team waste tax money on unnecessary insolence.”

 

The security guard's smile stiffened and very slowly, and stubbornly, swiped him into the main hall.

 

“She's on the 23^rd floor,” he checked his registry, “second practice room. But she's supposed to leave for a photoshoot in 20 minutes.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

A teenager could break into this building, Junmyeon shook his head as he took the elevator up. Nothing seemed to work to his liking in that building. It was too warm and the elevators took like 10 minutes to reach the 23^rd floor, and the floor of the elevator was fricking glass.

 

Then, when he reached the floor, he heaved a deep breath and the doors dinged open.

 

There was an estranged scream. He jolted and his pace broke into a run, hand sliding to his holster.

 

Second practice room.

 

The door was wide open

 

A 19-year-old violinist whose car blew up on her way back from a show. They found a body, but forensics proved that the body belonged to a male's, later identified to be one from the local morgue. They never found her body and it was suspected she survived the car crash and faked her own death to escape an abusive manager who also ually harrassed her. But there were Yunho's slanted, neat pencil markings on the side of the columns of details, his immaculate handwriting clearly wrote, 'victim had no access to strictly-sealed off morgue, car bomb was complex, timed'.

 

So how would a 19-year-old musician with 18 years of overseas high school education manage to set this up? With help.

 

Her name was Jenny Park, and they were never been able to trace her.

 

Park Bom lay in a pool of her own blood, three holes in the very face she had fought so hard to disguise. Those eyes that always looked like they would cry. Those lips parted in surprise.

 

Jenny Park was dead, this time for real.

 

*